


Javid Drabbles

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 20:54:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17210768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Three unrelated drabbles.





	Javid Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> 13 = Kiss Me  
> 32 = I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified  
> 38 = You fainted… straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.
> 
> Have three unrelated drabbles, which are exactly 100 words each, because I am a drabble master.

13

“Kiss me.”

David didn’t look up from the essay that he was writing. “You’d like that,” he said, still facing his computer rather than Jack. “I’d like that. The problem is, Jack, that I’m in the middle of something else right now, and you’re just going to have to…”

“Give you inspiration by kissing you ‘till you’re breathless?”

David rolled his eyes. “Right. I’m sure kissing you will give me nothing but new insight into Beowulf .”

Jack waited, pretending to study his nails. Five minutes later, David sighed. “Maybe just one kiss to wake me up,” he conceded.

 

————–

32

“I hate steamed carrots,” Les whispered to Jack over dinner. Then he challenged Jack to a race, to see who could bolt down their carrots the fastest. Les won.

“If something’s tough,” Les explained later, “then you gotta do it really really quickly. That’s how you make it go away.”

Jack didn’t hate David like Les hated carrots. He just hated how the warmth of David’s smile replaced the heat of the desert sun in his dreams. Nonetheless, he rushed through saying goodbye to him on the fire-escape that night, made It a game. What a mess.

————-

38

“Had to get your attention somehow,” Jack rasped. He wasn’t sure why that was the first thing he thought to say, but it must’ve been the right thing, because several of the boys around him laughed. He was lying on the ground - dusty, hot, soaked through with sweat. His head was in Davey’s lap. Davey was dripping water on him from a metal cup that someone must’ve brought.

“It’s not funny,” Davey snapped. “I told you a hundred times that it was too hot to run around like that. This is your own fault, now drink this water or else.”


End file.
